


Tell Me All the Ways to Love You

by CarisiIsMyHomeBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby, Best Friends, Canon Typical Violence, Dean being himself, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hospitals, Making Up, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Salt And Burns, Sam being a jerk, Sam being a sweetheart, Slow Burn, Sprained Ankles, The Impala - Freeform, Unrequited Love, aka the two best tropes, bed sharing, cuteness, loving someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 17:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarisiIsMyHomeBoy/pseuds/CarisiIsMyHomeBoy
Summary: There are many ways to say "I love you," and as it turns out, Sam says it every day in his own little way.





	Tell Me All the Ways to Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at carisiismyhomeboy.tumblr.com
> 
> Warnings: so much fluff, angst, some canon divergence, probable overuse of commas.

_**o n e** _

You shivered as you, Sam, and Dean made your way through the old cemetery on the outskirts of some small town, looking for the grave of a man whose ghost had been wreaking havoc for the past few days.

With every step you took, you cursed yourself and your choice of clothing for the day. It had been a beautiful day; sunny and breezy, just like you like it. So you decided to dress light, opting for only jeans, boots, and a tee while you spent the better part of the day posing as beat reporters with Dean; Sam opting to go to the local library and do research. You had forgotten that the temperature tends to drop once the sun starts to set in this particular part of the country, though. Which left you shaking in your leather boots, salt and gasoline in hand, searching for a stupid old grave. Your teeth chattered as you walked, something that did not go unnoticed by one Dean Winchester.

“You alright there, Princess?” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you years ago, “Just cold. Ready to get this over with and go back to the motel.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Sam spoke up, stopping at a headstone a few feet ahead of you. “Just found our guy.”

-

It was Dean’s turn to dig, so you and Sam leaned against a large headstone while you watched Dean. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of you shivering. You were clearly miserable.

“Why didn’t you wear a jacket?” He asked.

You let out a huff. “Well, the weather was just so nice today, so I didn’t think about it. And since we haven’t been back to the motel since this morning, I’m left freezing my ass off.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that cold out here.”

“Says the human space heater.”

You felt Sam’s eyes on you for a moment longer before he shrugged his jacket off, uncovering not one but two more layers of clothing underneath. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he was placing the jacket around your shoulders. You instantly felt warm and safe, the smell of his shampoo and soap surrounding you.

His hand lingered on your shoulder just a moment longer than what was probably necessary, but you didn’t think anything of it. “Here.  **Take my jacket**.”

 

**_t w o_ **

Your head hurt. That was the first thought you had when you woke up, for once thankful that the bunker didn’t have windows to let any light into your bedroom. Not yet wanting to move out of your warm spot in the bed, you rested your eyes a bit more, mentally kicking yourself for drinking so much with the Winchester brothers.

After years of living with them, you think you would have learned that you couldn’t keep up with them when they were on a binge. The three of you were having a great time last night, though; laughing and joking around like you hadn’t in a very long time. One drink turned into quite a few, and after a long while you had forgotten just how many times you had filled your glass with whiskey. So you stumbled off to bed, leaving the brothers to drink the night away by themselves. Though it was obvious by the pounding in your skull and the severe case of cotton mouth that you hadn’t cut yourself off soon enough.

Slowly turning your body to check your phone on your bedside table, you noticed a glass of water and a banana, no doubt left there for you by the younger Winchester. Sam was good to you like that; always looking out for you and helping you whenever he could. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

You drank the water quickly and nibbled on the banana, not particularly wanting to eat, but knowing that you should. As you ate, the smell of freshly brewed coffee came through from the kitchen of the bunker, making your mouth water and tempting you to leave your cocoon.

You slowly got out of bed and made your way down to the kitchen, barely acknowledging Sam leaning against a counter as you made a beeline for the coffee pot. A groan left you when you noticed it already empty.

“Rough morning?” Sam asked with a knowing smile.

“You could say that,” you replied dryly as you searched the pantry for the canister of coffee you kept. “Where’s the coffee?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. “Oh, um, I kind of just took the last of it. Dean left to get more. Sorry.”

You turned to look at him, noticing the sheepish smile gracing his face and the coffee mug in his hands.

“Seriously? Since when do we not keep this place stocked with coffee?” you dropped dramatically onto one of the chairs at the table, resigned to waiting until Dean came back. Sam sat next to you at the table, placing the near full mug in front of you. He looked at you, the kind smile he always wore when he was with you on his face.

“You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” he said. “ **We can share**.”

 

**_t h r e e_ **

“It’s not up for discussion anymore, Sam.”

“Do you not realize how dangerous this is?”

“This whole  _life_  is dangerous! I’m. Doing. This.” You turned your back to Sam before he could get another word in and stomped off to the grimy motel bathroom. You were just wasting time arguing with him and you needed to get yourself ready for the night.

The three of you were down in New Orleans hunting a group of vamps. Two women had been found totally drained of blood within the past week, and they were both last seen at a bar near Canal. Thanks to Sam’s keen eye for detail, he was able to spot a suspect in the security footage from both nights, even when the police hadn’t noticed him lurking in the crowd. You suspected that the vamp who picked up these women was low on the totem pole, probably only being used to bring them to the alpha of the group, because both women shared very similar physical characteristics.

It appeared that the alpha had a type, and it just so happened that you fit that type perfectly.

When you brought this up to the guys, Dean considered it, but Sam immediately refused to let you go into the bar as bait. He reasoned that it was too risky, that too many things could go wrong. After a quick reminder that last time you checked he was not your father, husband, or keeper, and you could do whatever the hell you wanted, his refusal turned into a plea for you to reconsider. He insisted that you could think of a better plan. However since Dean thought that this was the best thing to do, Sam reluctantly agreed, still trying to talk you out of it while you got dressed. You squeezed into your tightest jeans and put on way more makeup than your normal ‘foundation and mascara’ look, and exited the bathroom, eliciting a low whistle from Dean.

“How do I look?” You asked.

“I’d pick you up if I saw you lookin’ like that.” Dean winked. If looks could kill, the one he got from Sam would have taken another one of his seemingly endless supply of lives.

You laughed, “Good, that’s the point, I guess. Now let’s go catch some freaks.”

-

Since the motel was only two blocks from the bar, you had decided to walk, discussing the plan for what had to have been the tenth time. You and Sam hung back while Dean entered first, both to scope out the joint and to not seem like the three of you were together. Laughter and music poured from the entrance, Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ filling the silence between you and Sam.

“You sure you want to do this?” He asked suddenly. “We could sit and keep an eye on him; watch him try to pick up chicks.”

“The woman he picks up may not be able to defend herself like I can, Sam.” He nodded, but something was bothering you. “Hey, why are you so worried about this? This isn’t that big of a deal.”

Sam opened his mouth and quickly shut it, clearly wanting to say something. He was quiet for a beat, then waived it off.

You weren’t convinced, but it had been a few minutes and you needed to get this show on the road. “I’m going in. Wait five minutes, then come in?”

As you walked toward the entrance, you felt a gentle tug at your arm. You looked back to find Sam at the other end of the arm that had reached for yours. The look on his face told you there were a million things he wanted to say, but only two words came out.

“ **Be careful**.”

 

**_f o u r_ **

Three swift knocks on your motel room door startled you from the game show you had been watching, trying to distract yourself from the terrible day you’d had.

An involuntary sigh slipped past your lips as you contemplated not answering. You had a hunch as to who was knocking on your door, and part of you didn’t want to talk to him after the last conversation you had with the hunter. You wanted to pretend to be asleep and ignore this problem until tomorrow, but he knocked again and called your name, clearly wanting to talk. Clicking the small TV in your room off, you made your way to the door to answer it. An uneasy feeling hit your stomach when you saw Sam’s face, your mind replaying the last time you had seen him.

To say it had been a long day would be a tremendous understatement. The three of you were hunting down a very elusive shapeshifter who had managed to kill four people since you had arrived in town, and it had tensions running high between you. Between that, Abbadon, and trying to decode the demon tablet, the three of you were all on edge. It all came to a roaring head when you finally had tracked down the shifter’s most recent hideout; an old abandoned factory on the edge of town. Upon hearing screams coming from inside, you ran in while the boys were still forming a plan; desperate to save these people and finish the job.

After the hunt was finished, you and Sam walked back to the Impala while Dean cleaned up what remained of the shifter, not a word spoken between the two of you during the short walk. Sam threw his silver blade into the back of the Impala unceremoniously before finally breaking the silence, yelling at you for not waiting for him or Dean as backup. You had never seen Sam this angry with you before. He was relentless, saying that you had been stupid, foolish. Only when you screamed back at him with tears in your eyes that you had learned that from him did he stop his rant, allowing you to slip into the back of the car without another word.

Now, it seemed as if Sam had finally calmed down. He had his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket and he avoided your gaze. You noticed Sam’s shoulders visibly relax when you moved to the side to let him inside your room. Sam sat on the edge of your bed, running a hand through his hair before he spoke.

“ **I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.** ”

Looking into his eyes for the first time since your argument, you noted the guilt and shame in them. You just stood in front of him with your arms crossed, silent. His words were harsh, and it was going to take more than a feeble ‘I’m sorry’ to make it better.

Sensing this, Sam took a breath and spoke again “Really, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m just so stressed out about these stupid tablets, and the trials, and I’m worried about Kevin, and Dean, and you, and I took it out on you. I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Sam, it’s going to happen. Hell, it has happened. I’ve been hunting with you guys for years now. You know how good I am. And it still happens to me, and you, and Dean. It’s just hazards of the life.”

Sam nodded, “I know, and that won’t happen again. I just worry about you.”

Your heart softened at that. “I know you do, and I’m glad you do, but you need to let me do the job.”

“You’re right, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

You uncrossed your arms and wrapped them around his neck in a hug, silently telling him that all was forgiven and Sam reciprocated instantly.

You pulled away after a moment, briefly contemplating closing the gap between the two of you once again; finally undoing the not doing with one simple kiss like you had dreamt of doing for so long. But, you decided against it, leaving things just the way things were.

 

**_f i v e_ **

Of all the things that could go wrong in this line of work; all of the monsters who wanted you dead, you would have never guessed that your complete lack of coordination would be the thing to keep you out of the game.

You had been cooped up in the Impala for hours with the guys, travelling to your next case. Dean hadn’t stopped driving for close to six hours, saying he “didn’t want to waste daylight.” Not that you really minded; it allowed you to stretch out in the backseat and relax before this case, but you were getting restless. Right around when you hit the six hour mark, Dean took an exit just outside of Bloomington, Illinois to fill up on gas and grab a late lunch, and you were beyond excited to get out of the car for a few minutes.

So excited, in fact, that your feet tripped over one another as you got out of the car, causing your right ankle to snap as you fell.

Dean tried to catch you before you hit the ground, but it was too late. Your ankle began to swell almost instantly, and you found yourself right back in the backseat of the Impala, Sam wrapping your ankle while Dean got the food.

Two hours later when you had finally arrived at a motel in town, the swelling in your ankle had gone down, but only very slightly. You had been ordered by both Sam and Dean to stay on the bed with your ankle elevated while they got changed for the hunt.

“Me and Sammy are gonna go to the station, see what we can find,” Dean said as he slipped on his Fed shoes, “You - stay on the bed and keep that foot up.”

“Dean, come on. It’s not  _that bad_ ,” you argued. You did not want to be stuck in this room after being in the car for the better part of the day.

Dean only smirked, walking across the room to the door. “Not that bad, huh? Walk over to me, then.  _Without_  wincing or limping.”

You stood, determined to pass this little test of his. However, you groaned in pain after just one step. “Dammit,” you muttered as you sat back on the bed. “Fine, you win, I guess.”

He didn’t even attempt to hide the triumphant smirk on his face,  "That’s what I thought. Stay in bed.“

Sam emerged from the bathroom just then, seemingly having heard the whole exchange, “It’s probably for the best.” He said.

“It’s just a stupid little sprain,” you grumbled. You were nothing if not stubborn.

Sam shook his head, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “It looks like a pretty bad sprain, actually. It shouldn’t have swelled that fast. Besides, you’d slow us down if you came. You know that.“

He was right, of course. You would only slow them down, and you knew they couldn’t afford to have any distractions while they were on the job. Besides, how could you argue when Sam was looking at you with those sad little puppy eyes of his?

“I know, you’re right. Go kill yourselves a monster, I’ll be fine here.”

With a quick pat to your good leg, Sam stood from his spot on the bed to fluff a pillow and carefully placed it under your right foot. “There’s snacks in the bag and drinks in the fridge. We’ll be back soon.  **Call me if you need anything**.”

 

**_s i x_ **

Your bare feet ached as you ran through the barely lit corridor. This hall was never ending; everytime you thought you’d reached the end, the walls would only stretch further. The only sounds you heard were your heart thudding against your chest and feet smacking against the cold concrete floor. You were terrified and alone, and your body was begging you to stop running, but something in you knew that you had to reach the end.

Just when you thought you couldn’t go anymore, you saw a figure crumpled on the ground a few feet in front of you. Despite the burning in your lungs you pushed yourself to keep running until you reached it, and you couldn’t help but fall to your knees when you saw what was waiting for you at the end.

"No, no way.” You felt as if you were going to be sick; you didn’t want to believe what you were seeing. His skin was cold as ice as you grabbed him, confirming your fears. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on his arm tightened, “Son of a bitch,  _NO_!” The shriek was loud and deafening in your ears; you barely recognized the voice as your own.

You heard a familiar voice calling your name, but it was muffled, almost like it was coming from outside, wherever outside was. Your eyes couldn’t leave him, though. You heard the voice again, closer this time.

And just like that, the haunting visions from your nightmare were replaced with your dark bedroom at the bunker. You no longer felt cold and you felt a set of warm hands on your bare arms, presumably what woke you. You chest heaved as you attempted to calm yourself; the terrible feeling in your guy still there.

The hands that were holding you left your arms and reached to click on your bedside lamp. You closed your eyes at the sudden light, but a soft, calming voice let you know that it was Sam.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you felt Sam brush a few pieces of hair away from your face as he spoke. “You’re okay, just breathe.”

Focusing on Sam’s voice and his words, you tried again to ground yourself. The panic you felt and the uneasiness on your stomach slowly ebbed while you collected yourself, taking a few deep breaths, just like Sam said. With your breathing almost back to normal, you opened your eyes to see Sam sitting next to you on the bed, his eyes filled with worry.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Yeah, thanks.” You glanced at the clock on your nightstand, it read just after three in the morning. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“No worries, we all get nightmares from time to time. I’m surprised you didn’t wake Dean up, too. You were screaming loud enough for me to think something had gotten in here.” His tone was light, but you still hated that you had woken him up just because of a stupid nightmare.

Sensing your discomfort, his smile faltered. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek for a moment, trying to decide what to say. You don’t tell him that you dreamt of him, cold and lifeless. You don’t say that you knew, somehow, that this was it. There would be no saving him or bringing him back to life. He was gone, empty. Dead.

“Uh, it was the wendigo. From the hunt last week.” You lied.

Sam looked skeptical. “A wendigo made you scream like that?”

“It was attacking me,” you replied. “It was a pretty vivid nightmare.” That part wasn’t a lie, at least.

It was apparent that he didn’t believe you, but he thankfully let it go. “Do you want me to stay? It may help you sleep better.”

Though your heart jumped at the chance to sleep with him next to you, you didn’t want him to feel obligated. “I’m fine, Sam. I’ll just watch TV or something ‘till I pass out.”

“It’d be just like when we share a bed on hunts. You always seem to sleep better when we share, anyway.”

After a quick nod from you, Sam crawled under the covers with you and clicked off the lamp. You turned onto your side to face away from him and felt a heavy arm drape around your waist. You two had done this a hundred times, but you never tired of this feeling.

“You sure this is okay?” You whispered.

“Trust me, this is fine.” Sam pulled you a little tighter to him. “ **I don’t mind**.”

 

**_s e v e n_ **

Your foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum tile of the hospital as you watched Sam sleep. You and Dean had been waiting in his room for hours silently urging him to wake up, or at least move a finger or something. Anything let you know that he was still there.

The hunt had been a total clusterfuck. The three of you had gone in totally unprepared for what was waiting inside, but all hunters know that if you get the chance to gank the sorry S.O.B. you’re after, you take it. So, you had stormed the warehouse with only a gun and the silver blade you kept in your boot, Sam and Dean close behind with a few weapons of their own. Surprisingly, the fight was over quickly, Dean stabbing it straight through the heart just before it could get a hold of you. After a quick inspection of Dean to make sure he wasn’t too hurt, you noticed Sam wasn’t with him.

As if Dean could read your mind, he looked behind him. “You seen Sam?”

Panic flooded your mind as you shook your head, and the two of you went separate ways searching for him. Nothing could have prepared you for how you found Sam, slouched against a wall unconscious, blood leaking out of a wound that seemed to come from his abdomen, and another one from his forehead. You screamed for Dean, trying futility to move him and hold pressure to the stomach wound at the same time.

You were a wreck the whole ride to the nearest hospital. You sat in the back with Sam, combing his hair with your hands as you tried not to think the worst. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you yelled for Dean to drive faster, knowing he was already driving like a bat out of hell, but you didn’t care. The logical part of your brain wasn’t working. The only thing you could think of was getting Sam help.

-

Three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, too many cuts, scrapes, and bruises to count, and a severe concussion. The doctor on call had informed you and Dean that they had done all they could, stopped the bleeding and made him comfortable, but he had lost a lot of blood. That combined with the head injury was serious, and now it was all up to Sam to wake up.  It was your worst nightmare come to life.

So, now, you and Dean were in his room; you at his bedside since you had first walked in, your small hands holding one of Sam’s. The room was silent save for the steady beeping on the monitor.

Dean mumbled something about getting you both some more coffee and you nodded absently, your gaze not leaving Sam’s face. God, it was torture seeing him like this. Sure, you had seen him with broken bones and blood pouring from wounds all over his body, but never this bad. Never not here. He always bounced back. This was different, though. No one could tell you if he would come back or not.

You sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening for him to just wake up and be okay. You weren’t ready to do this life without him; not yet. There were too many things you hadn’t done, too many things you hadn’t told him. If this was it, well, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

Sam’s fingers twitched then. It was barely noticeable; you thought for a moment that you had imagined it, but then they moved again, more this time.

“Sam?” His name came out as a gasp as you looked him over, seeing that his eyes were finally open again. Those kind, hazel eyes that you weren’t sure if you’d ever see again were looking up at you through heavy lids. He smiled softly, whispering a quiet “Hey, you.”

“Dammit, Sam,” you cried out, your grip on his hand even tighter as you felt your tears start anew, this time out of sheer relief. “I was so fucking worried about you. I didn’t know what was going to happen; if you were coming back.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” he said whispered, squeezing your hand with his own, “ **Don’t worry about me**.”

 

**_e i g h t_ **

This was far from where you expected your night to go, but it’s not like you were complaining.

You, Sam, and Dean had completed a successful hunt earlier in the evening. While you normally hit the road right after hunts, Dean had decided that you were going to stay the night, saying something about hitting up a few bars in the city. You had declined his offer to join him, and Sam quickly followed suit, much to your surprise. Instead, he suggested that the two of you do something fun that didn’t include crowded bars and playing pool. Without much convincing on his part you agreed, happy to get some alone time with Sam.

Which is how you found yourself alone with Sam and a six pack of beer on a secluded bench across the river, looking out towards the city. You couldn’t help but think about how date-like this felt. The thought made your heart flutter.

“How did you know this was here, Sam?” you asked, taking a sip from your beer. It was a beautiful little spot; the bright lights from the city sticking out against the dark night sky and the reflection on the water.

He shrugged, “Honestly, I didn’t for sure. I just figured there would be a few nice spots along the river. Turns out I was right.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Well, thanks for being right, Sammy. It’s gorgeous.”

Sam snaked an arm around your shoulders, humming in agreement. It was something he had done a million times before, but this time felt different in a way you couldn’t put your finger on. You leaned into him, pretending for only a moment, that the two of you had normal jobs, normal lives. You let yourself make believe that this was a normal occurrence; being out on a date with the man you loved.

Even with the city noise and the hum of cars crossing the bridge, you swore you could hear Sam’s heart pounding in his chest. You turned to look at his face, and were surprised to find him already looking down at you. Sam slowly brought a hand to your face, brushing a few rogue hairs away and cupping your jaw in his hand. He seemed almost hesitant, like he was testing you. Making sure you wouldn’t turn away from him. You had never before seen Sam so unsure of himself.

You searched his eyes for a brief moment trying to find a reason behind this, then something clicked. This sudden private outing to what had to be one of the most romantic spots in the city, Dean’s constant insistence of “He loves you, ya know.” The way Sam was looking at you, like he was trying to see inside your soul. You realized that your feelings for Sam may not be as unrequited as you thought.

Before you lost your nerve, you did the one thing you had wanted to do for as long as you could remember. You gently pressed your lips to Sam’s as your own little test. You had to make sure that this wasn’t just wishful thinking on your part. When Sam answered by pulling you closer to him, you felt yourself practically melt against him. This felt so right, as if these were the lips you were meant to kiss for the rest of your life. You pushed even closer to him, wanting to put everything you had left unsaid into the kiss. That he was worth it, that he was enough. You wanted to show him that despite all the things he had done, that he was deserving of love, and that as long as he wanted you, you weren’t going anywhere.

You wanted him to know that you loved him.

He pulled away slowly, smiling wider than he had in a long time, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”

You were sure that your smile matched his, “Yeah, me too, Sammy.”

You opened your mouth to speak; to say those three little words that had been on the tip of your tongue for what seemed like forever, but Sam beat you to it.

With another chaste kiss to your lips and a brush of his hand on your skin, he whispered,

“ **I love you**.”


End file.
